What A Witch Really Wants.

While talking to my brilliant & kindly HPS today about the Summary Shitcanning from The Barn and whether I want to teach there at all assuming the one student they told me I could still have comes back from a sabbatical, she said, wisely, that as far as long-term goals, it sounded as though I still need to decide what I want.

I know what I don't want. I don't want any more crazy - not dumb & crazy, not brilliant but crazy, none of it. I don't want random dressings-down, insane horses I'm afraid to put my students on, or bizarre business plans.

In short, unless someone is ridiculously stable (LOL SEE WHAT I DID THERE), I don't want to work for anyone else again. I don't want to have a big barn with a lot of show-oriented riders and eventually have to hire someone else to do what I can't  (I never showed high level, and it's been twenty years since I jumped anything taller than two-six).

I don't want to have so many lessons that it starts to feel like an assembly line, or so that rescheduling is almost impossible, or so that my hypothetical horses never get a day off.

I don't want to have to depend on teaching for a living - it's too feast-or-famine for my Scottish financial comfort.

I want a small barn - five schooling horses and no more than ten boarders, some of whom may or may not take lessons. I want to cater to adults who don't care if they ever show. I want a few kids who basically become equine slave labor through their teens. I want boarders who are there to ride, not to try to throw the latest training sensation at everyone else or allow their ill-behaved spawn to run wild through the barnyard. Hell, I don't even care if they ride all that much, so long as someone cares for and interacts with their horse.

Of course, the next question is how the hell I make this happen. Time to consult the oracles.

Because The Salt Across Her Office Doorway Isn't Working.

One of my co-workers is the type of person whose basic personality conflicts with mine in the way that makes me want to whack her with my old Stanford-Binet scores while shouting, "STOP TALKING TO ME LIKE I AM STUPID". She also seems to have some weird desire to make herself look good by making me look less good. My immediate boss is aware of this and always comes to my defense when she hears Annoying Co-Worker doing this.

Today's conversation convinces me that administering Bewitched Baked Goods is going to be necessary:

AC-W: There's a lady on the phone etc so forth blah blah.
ME: (In my head: so why didn't you transfer her to me in the first place?) OK, well, if you told her how to XY the Z, I'm not sure what else I can tell her.
AC-W: Blah blah blah unwillingness to deal
ME: OK. What line is she on?
AC-W: Line 2.
ME: (nota bene: when you put someone on hold, the light for that line blinks) Huh. The line isn't blinking, though. (genuine confusion on my part)
AC-W: (smugly) Yes it is.
ME: No, no it isn't. I can see all 3 lines, none of which are blinking.
AC-W: (still with the smug) Well, it's blinking on mine.
ME: Well, it isn't on mine, so can you transfer her?

It would be bad, wrong, and a violation of Annoying Co-Worker's Free Will to put charmed baked goods in the break area, wouldn't it? I should just surround myself with white light and hold a rose quartz crystal and think loving thoughts at her. I should try to convey in "I messages" that she can talk to me as though I am an intelligent adult, and that my communication style differs from hers, so here's how we can work together more productively.

Or I can hex the hell out of some godsdamn bread and cackle every time she takes a bite.